Katherine Griffiths: A Lifetime of Photobooth Portraits

There was a time when magic lived in the everyday corners of our world. At the end of a train platform or hidden in the side of a shopping mall, a little photobooth waited patiently, its curtain swaying, its seat worn smooth, its promise simple: step inside, and capture a moment forever. Teenagers would pile in, laughing, pressing close, pulling faces. Out slid a strip of photos like treasure from a secret machine. Looking back, these might have been the very first selfies, grainy, awkward, but filled with joy.

Katherine Griffiths never let that magic go. Her very first strip came from Chadstone Shopping Center in 1974, and she’s been collecting ever since, thousands of photobooth images of herself, her family, and her friends. Some caught mid-laughter, others with inevitable blinks, but all pieces of her story. Along the way, she began gathering vintage photos and rare memorabilia, rescuing them from junk shops and online auctions, snapshots of strangers, each one a mystery, each one a fragment of history.

But Katherine’s story is also part of a much older one. The first automated photographic device was submitted in 1888, yes, 1888! Soon after, the very first photobooth, called the Bosco, was introduced by Anatol Josepho in 1889. Yet it was his later invention, the Photomaton in 1925, that truly popularized the idea, sparking a worldwide fascination. Then, in 1963, Andy Warhol stepped inside a booth for a project with Harper’s Bazaar, transforming those little photo strips into high art. Since then, photobooths have wandered far from train stations and shopping malls, becoming beloved features at weddings, parties, and corporate events—complete with props, costumes, and glittery backdrops, all carrying on the same spirit of play.

After nearly five decades of dedication, Katherine’s lifelong love of photobooths is now celebrated in a special exhibition at Melbourne’s RMIT Gallery: Auto-Photo: A Life in Portraits. Lining the walls are countless photo strips that not only capture her own journey, but also trace the story of the photobooth itself, those humble machines that transformed everyday people into stars, preserving joy, love, laughter, and intimacy in just four small frames. For those who can’t visit in person, her collection is also shared online through her personal site.

What’s most remarkable is how something so small—a coin, a curtain, a whirring flash could hold entire worlds. Each booth was a stage, each snapshot a relic of laughter, love, or curiosity. Together, they remind us that even in the humblest of places, a lifetime can be captured, one click at a time.